Special Olympians
by high.fiving.jesus
Summary: Don't do nothing. Stop the 'R' word- One shot.


**Dedicated to all my special Olympians.**

**Stop the 'R' word.**

**I don't own Percy Jackson so please don't go getting your knickers in a twist, haha.**

**Special Olympian**

Percy Jackson, with knees bent and hands poised, let the basketball loose and turned with a grin as it slipped through the threaded net. His smile couldn't have been brighter and his eyes were caked over with an odd, humorous glee about making the basket. He fisted his orange T-shirt and wiped away the sweat that had crowded together on his brow.

Sitting in the stands of the gym was a girl with gentle blonde ringlets pulled into a high ponytail. Raccoon eyes met his own sea green ones and a grin formed in the center of the storm. Her mouth, however, displayed a smug, vainglorious nature of a smirk and she pushed aside his beautiful three-pointer.

The gym floor rumbled beneath him as a larger player trampled past him and tossed his own basketball that blissfully followed the rim and tipped in towards the center. "Good one, big guy."

Tyson grinned sheepishly and twirled his thumbs, almost ashamed that he had managed to make a basket properly. "You were better."

"Lucky shot," Percy shrugged. He wasn't about to admit aloud that he had been playing basketball and practicing ever since his step-father from long ago, Smelly Gabe, had made the game the size of a beetle in what he admired. He didn't like mentioning that the man had once been a part of their lives, no matter how many people already knew.

"We will win," Tyson smiled, seeming to forget his bashful approach of the sport. "Just like cart games."

A young boy with Down syndrome came bounding over with his own basketball and a huge, irreplaceable grin plastered on. He paused, bent his knees, and threw the ball as best as he could and it only just fell short of the net. "Oh man," he rasped and ran for the rolling ball on the ground.

"Hey, you'll get it, TJ," Percy tried but he had stopped listening, and threw the ball again. It smacked off the back board and dropped to the ground.

xxx

"What a _retard_," the boy in the stand beside him snickered and nudged his friends. The laughter grew with the comments and the teasing about the intellect of the horde of Olympians out on the court. They shoved and roared with sneers. "Miss!" they called just as Tyson tried for a basket, that he managed from halfway down the court.

Percy's fists were settled on his lap, the muscles in his neck tightening with every word coming from their mouths. He didn't like bullies. He didn't enjoy their presence, and hardly appreciated their parents' meetings. They were his own personal tormenters that he had struggled with throughout his high school career from simply defending the lesser kids. They were the reasons he had gotten expelled; they had caused a majority of the struggles that he and his mother faced, aside from monsters. One thing he couldn't accept was taunting someone, especially those participating in the Special Olympics.

Annabeth, rather than trying to calm him, was oddly enough encouraging him to take some course of action. "They won't stop unless you make them, Percy."

His forearms tightened and he tried counting to ten. He knew he had temper issues, and maybe they weren't too off mark this time around, but he didn't want to become so enraged he could commit something he would regret. And when the counting wasn't enough, he took to gripping the edge of the bleacher.

These kids were mocking his brother—his _brother_. He knew that if he told Tyson he wouldn't understand; he might have ignored them. He was better with his temper, but Percy found that he couldn't just sit and take what they were tossing out.

"The kid's, like, mental," he snickered. He couldn't have anticipated the even fist that knocked him off of the backside of the bleacher. The girls behind him squealed and scrambled away from the fight that was about to break out, but they pulled out recording devices at an equal rate. "Did you just _hit_ me?" He looked upon the other as if he had just called his mother an ape. His middle finger ran along his bottom lip, but no blood had been drawn. Yet.

Annabeth couldn't contain her grin, and no matter how bad her desire to join him was, she couldn't be seen wailing on some boys that had at least a few inches on her. Chiron had already held her to the promise of behaving herself when she was out, just to keep Percy from doing something idiotic at her command. _Lead by example_. And she would at least feign an attempt.

As the neighboring bully stirred and began pulling himself up Percy shoved him back down. "That's my brother out there." Not his most tactful approach, but he felt it needed to be said, because there was that inkling of hope that it would make a difference to show that those were real people. Not just… handicapped irregulars, but brothers, sisters, sons and daughters; loved ones with special needs, not just creatures of pure amusement. They were specially designed and one day they would change lives; Tyson had already changed—and saved—his own life more than he would care to count.

"I'm sorry?"

He landed a square knock to the other's jaw.

"Dude, lay off—"

He was once more interrupted by the taste of revenge smacking him in the eye socket.

There was a small fire burning in the back of Percy's eyes; a small desire to just make this kid take a header down the stairs—nothing permanent, but something just able to confine to a hospital bed for a night or two. He knew these weren't his own, and the kid had been making him seriously mad, but he had been praying for Ares to show his face and give reason to why he was so mad. He did want to do _something_, after all.

"You lay off," Percy demanded, Annabeth's eyes flickering behind him from the game to her boyfriend.

"Save it for after the game, Seaweed Brain," she warned him, noticing that Tyson's attention was wavering the more heated the fight got. She smiled at him and tried to encourage him to keep going, but what managed to shake him was TJ and another teammate running into him with the ball in between as if they were fighting over it. The Cyclops hardly even thought as he plucked the ball from their grasp and shot a basket that pulled his team ahead.

xxx

Eyes roamed over the crowd for the man—well, monster—that had led the team to a very rewarding, very satisfying victory that was ensued by ice cream and cream soda going around. Annabeth grabbed his arm and pointed over to a crowd of kids and rather old adults all talking at once as if the other was listening. In the center was the only quiet creature, attempting to listen to every single thing someone had to say, though he couldn't bring himself to focus on anyone but a single soul at once. His one calf-brown eye blinked down at TJ who insisted on introducing him to a crowd of family members at the concession stand.

Percy and Annabeth broke through the crowd, with some… ah, elbows flying. After much apologizing on the girl's part, and much more force on his, they were standing on the outer rim of the circle calling out his name. Tyson's eyes lifted and he grinned, excusing himself awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs, and inching towards them.

"We have won," he informed them with the same shy smile as when he had smashed in a bronze bull's head.

"Yeah, we know," Percy grinned.

"You have blood on your shirt."

"Yeah, I know."

"Why?"

Percy and Annabeth exchanged glances.

xxx

**Well, there it is. A one-shot that I probably should've spent more time on that I just didn't have. Anyways, if I delivered the message clearly, I'm pleased. It's just something we should all understand.**

**I've been in the situation where I've seen a crowd of people picking on this kid with the mentality of a two-year-old, making him act like a total idiot. He didn't understand how wrong it was, and I hate admitting that I let it happen. I cursed them in my head; I trash talked them. I never **_**did**_** anything to help the teen and looking back, I wish I did. I have a strong dislike for that group anyways; it wouldn't have bothered me if I got in a fight for a good reason. **

**I think the worst part was that the teacher let it happen.**

**Don't just sit and watch it unfold. Do something good. I mean, I'm not encouraging violence, that's not what… oh, forget it. If that's what it comes to, then yes I am. **

**Just… try not to let it get that far.**

**My mom always says "Pop 'em in the jaw one good time and, look, no problem."**


End file.
